


THE MORNING AFTER

by jonnor_chaos



Series: CONFRONTING OURSELVES [2]
Category: Actor RPF, American (US) Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF, harrison osterfiled, tom holland - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Coming Out, Feelings, Gay, Jacob Batalon - Freeform, LGBT, Love, M/M, Romance, Tension, friends - Freeform, haz osterfield, tom holland - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-29 21:03:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15081689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jonnor_chaos/pseuds/jonnor_chaos
Summary: This isn't right. They are best friends. Why does Tom want him so badly? Why is he trying so hard to resist?





	THE MORNING AFTER

I found myself alone in bed when I woke up. _Why am I not surprised?!_ I thought, pushing back the sheets and finding that my jeans had somehow come off during the night - _also not a surprise._

Tom was standing out on the balcony, barefoot, jeans hanging low, tea in hand – the most British man ever (sorry Hiddleston). From his posture I could see that he was in denial mode. He had this habit of compartmentalizing the things he didn’t want to face. And last night was clearly going to be yet another in the long list of such things.

I walked up behind him silently, put a hand on his shoulder. “Morning.”

He stood up abruptly. My hand falling away. “About time you woke up.” He replied with a tight smile. “Thought we would have to leave you here.”

“I had a good reason to sleep well,” I ventured, hinting not so subtly at the night before.

“You did.” He replied. _This is promising._

“Alcohol will do that to you.” He smiled. _And there it was, wall of denial._

I could feel the hangover in my head, so I couldn’t deny that bit exactly, but he knew what I meant.

“Jacob came by while you were asleep,” he said. “His flight left about an hour ago.”

I had missed saying goodbye to our friend. “Why didn’t you wake me?” I asked irritated. "I wanted to see him before he left."

“Sure,” Tom replied sarcastically, “because I had a perfectly good explanation for why we were half naked in my hotel room?”

“Yes!” I said, “And you could have told it to him too!”

“You’re not serious?” he retorted.

“Yes I am.” I said

“Would you like some tea?” he asked, moving away from the balcony, the sun molding perfectly to his biceps - _fuck I couldn’t ever get enough_.

Ignoring the stirring in my boxers, I looked directly at him, “So we’re going to do this again are we?”

"There’s still plenty, I ordered a whole pot.”

“Really, Tom?” I asked, challenging.

He spun around mid-step, “Yes, really!” he said emphatically, staring at me.

“We can’t just ignore…” I began.

“We can!” he cut me off, “If you would just let it go!”

"And how do you suppose I do that, Thomas?” I asked sarcastically.

“It shouldn’t have happened, “he said, “it was a mistake.”

I stepped back as if he had slapped me. _A mistake!_   That’s what he called it, what he thought of this, this _thing_   that was between us.

He saw my expression, “Don’t be dramatic, Harrison. We were drunk for shit sake.”

“Oh, so alcohol is the reason you kissed me?”

“I never said that.”

“Then what the fuck are you saying, Tom?” my irritation turning to anger, matching his own.

He ran a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath, eyes never leaving mine, “Can we please, please let this go?”

“It’s that easy for you?” I asked, not backing down, “To just _let it go?_  You didn’t seem to want to let go of my di….”

* * *

 

I didn’t even see his hand coming, but I felt the sudden sting in my cheek as my head whipped sideways. _He fucking hit me!_ My hand going to my cheek, glaring at him through tear filled eyes.

He stood frozen. “I didn’t….” he stammered, “fuck, Haz. I, I’m sorry…” he reached for my cheek, red from his strike. I stood up straight and stepped away.

“Haz…. Please,” he said softly.

 “You’re such a fucking idiot!” I shouted at him. “You would rather hit me than talk? Jesus, Tom, its me!”

“I know!” he roared back, shocking me.

“I know it’s you! And I don’t want to hurt you, I would _never_ want to hurt you, Harrison. But you won’t let it go!”

“Because I can’t!” I yelled.

In the silence that followed, he looked at the mark he had left on me, stepping forward, he reached his hand out and stroked his fingers across my cheek. I could see tears in his eyes.

“Look what I did to you,” he whispered, voice breaking a little.

I leaned into his touch. “Forgive me, Haz.” He pleaded, moving closer. I could see the tremble in his chest, he was afraid.

“Always,” I replied simply. “But we can’t keep doing this, Tommy.”

“I know.”

There was a knock on the door. _Again! Why does the universe hate me?_

* * *

 

Tom turned, and I could literally see the walls going back up as he went to answer the door. It was a hotel messenger.

“Pardon the interruption, Mr Holland,” he said, not phased at all by the shirtless, tousled man before him, “your booking agent asked that you be ready in an hour. A car will be around to take you and Mr Osterfield to the airport.”

“That’s great, thank you very much,” Tom said, smiling. The messenger stood still.

“Was there anything else?”

“Apologies, sir. But Mr Osterfield did not answer his door when I stopped by his room.”

Without skipping a beat, “That’s alright, he is here. We’re having tea on the balcony. It was a ummm… rough night.” He laughed a bit at the end.

“I see,” the messenger replied in a friendly tone, “making memories before you leave Hong Kong.”

Tom laughed, “Something like that. Nothing too special though.”

A moment later the door closed and Tom walked back into the room. “Nothing too special?” I asked mocking his earlier tone.

“What’s that?”

“Good to know that’s what I am to you, Thomas.”

“Jesus, that not what I meant,” he countered.

I grabbed my discarded shirt from the floor and headed to the door.

“Haz, where are you going?” he asked, following me.

“Where you wanted me to go last night,” I said angrily, “To my room.”

“Don’t turn this into another fucking…”

Cutting him off, I said, “I’ll see you down stairs. And don’t worry, I’ll be a good little sidekick.”

I closed the door.


End file.
